


No Matter What

by 18lzytwner



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/18lzytwner/pseuds/18lzytwner
Summary: Tony and Ziva are trapped in the elevator after season 9's finale. What happens then?  One shot





	No Matter What

_Get up!  Get up!_   A voice in her head screamed and she desperately tried to listen but her body screamed at her not to.  Everything hurt and her lungs clenched at the dust and dirt she’d inhaled.  Coughing, she slowly opened her eyes; the world around her was dark.  It was then that she realized the floor beneath her was moving.  Attempting to move off of the moving floor, she realized that something lay on top of her.  Finding a non-moving portion of floor, she put her hands down and pushed.

          “Ungh,” she grunted the debris from the ceiling of the elevator fell away and onto the floor.  Pain shot through her left arm.  It was obviously broken but she ignored it as she slipped back to her knees when she got a good look at what had been underneath her in the dull glow of the emergency lights.

          “Tony!”  His name slipped from her lips at almost a whisper, her throat parched.  They must have been out for a long while.  He was barely breathing and she tried to ascertain how bad his injuries were.  He had an open wound on his forehead and his breathing was labored.  Broken ribs probably from her and the ceiling landing on top of him.  From her position on her knees she gingerly put her good hand on his side and moved slowly down his rib cage.

          “If you wanted to get some of this all you had to do was ask,” Tony coughed out, opening his eyes.

          “Still the same old Tony,” she laughed but it hurt and she immediately regretted it.

          “Ziva, you’re bleeding,” he lifted a hand to the cut on her cheek.

          “So are you,” the former Mossad agent pointed out.

          “Just a scratch,” he said before he coughed, his chest ached.

          “With your scarred lungs that broken rib somewhere isn’t helping,” Ziva told him.

          “I was more concerned about your arm,” Tony pointed out.

          “Just a scratch,” she laughed slightly.

          “How bad is it?”  He switched topics.

          “I haven’t checked.  I checked you out first,” Ziva admitted.

          “Well at least you finally admitted it,” he smirked.

          “Admitted what?”  She asked.

          “That you’ve been checking me out.  I knew the DiNozzo good looks would eventually win you over,” this time he got a smack on his shoulder with her good hand.  It could have been a lot harder the smack but for some reason it seemed like her playful smack.  Admittedly though, it still hurt.

          “So what are our chances of getting out of here soon?”  Ziva deftly changed the subject, something she was incredibly good at.

          “Not good considering I don’t think anyone knows we’re in here,” Tony seemed surprisingly defeated and the former Mossad agent took note before making her way to the panel with the buttons for the elevator.  The emergency lights flickered and she hesitated to hit the emergency call button.

          “If you’re going to do something, best do it quickly or…” he didn’t finish as the elevator plunged into darkness.

          “Never mind,” he said.

          “Rule Number Nine,” Ziva told him as she slowly moved from her hand and knee to her bottom, fetching the knife from her ankle.

          “What good is a knife going to do now?  We can’t see,” Tony asked.

          “Gibbs always says never leave home without it.  If the lights were back on, I might be able to use it to jury rig the emergency call button,” she pointed out.

          “Fabulous, at least we have a backup plan.  Too bad that rule doesn’t include a flashlight,” Tony shook his head despite the fact that she could not see it and it made him dizzy.

          “It’s in my other pair of pants,” Ziva said.

          “Is that you joking when we’re in a dangerous situation?”  Tony gave a slight chuckle and regretted it immediately.

          “I suppose it is,” she smirked.  Slowly she lifted back onto her knees and tried to find a way to stand up.  Luckily she was near a railing and used her right arm to pull herself up.  That’s when the floor shifted.

          “Did you feel that?”  She asked.

          “Whatever you just did, undo it.  Apparently the shift in weight didn’t do much for the unsteady elevator,” he said.  As slowly as she could, she sat back down.

          “The emergency brake should have engaged,” the Israeli told him.

          “Yes well, I’m guessing like the emergency lights, it’s not going to hold out forever.  We need to try to open the doors,” Tony shifted his weight slightly and tried to get himself into a position to stand up.

          “Can you stand up?”  He asked.

          “Yes can you?”  She wanted to know.

          “I think so.  Maybe if we do it at the same time then we could try to make for the door,” DiNozzo suggested.

          “Shifting all our weight toward the door might be a good idea but between the two of us, we only have three good arms.  Not sure how we’ll force the door open,” Ziva said.

          “Point,” he nodded but found that was a bad idea as well, “I think we have a bigger problem,” he continued.

          “What’s that?”  Concern was evident in her voice.

          “I probably have a mild concussion,” Tony told her.  She let out a sigh and for a little while the two fell into silence.

          “Should we try shouting to get someone’s attention?”  Ziva asked breaking the silence.

          “We must be in bad shape.  We didn’t think of that sooner?”  Tony couldn’t believe the idea slipped his mind.

          “I’d say we should pound on it but considering the floor is not exactly steady…” she trailed off.

          “You’re right, not such a good idea,” he agreed.

          “Tony, I just have to say one thing,” Ziva started.

          “Tell me when we get out of here.  Meanwhile keep thinking about Paris.  I know I think about it all the time,” Tony said.  Had he been able to see he would have seen Ziva’s cheeks flush a bright red.  Instead of responding to him, she called for help.  Then Tony tried.  They switched calling but got no response.  Then suddenly after calling for a little while, Ziva did not go when it was her turn.

          “Hey David, it’s your turn,” Tony said.  He got no response.  At this point he grew incredibly nervous.  His head was pounding from their shouting echoing off the sides of the shiny steel elevator and quite a few times he had held down his vomit, not realizing that Ziva wasn’t using her voice to its full potential.

          “Ziva!”  He got no response again and this time he didn’t care if the floor moved.  As quickly as he could, he crawled over to her, crunching the leftover ceiling portion under his knees and hands, cutting them.  He ignored the pain and made it to Ziva.  He carefully felt around until he found her neck and breathed a sigh of relief that he found a pulse.  It was weak but still there.  Then he carefully went looking for anything that would give him a clue as to why she had slipped into unconsciousness.  It didn’t take long before he found a wet spot on her side.  He knew his hands were bleeding but he was fairly certain that this spot had been there awhile.  Somehow she’d punctured her side.  Knowing it was going to hurt and praying that she would forgive him, Tony pressed on the wound and she snapped awake, screaming.

          “Screw Rule Number Twelve,” he said which was swiftly followed by him crushing his lips to something.  He couldn’t see but he was fairly certain he’d gotten her cheek.

          “Tony!”  Ziva’s voice was barely loud enough to hear.  Between the shouting and the pain and the loss of blood, she was barely hanging in there.

          “What did I tell you?  They’re killing each other in there,” a muffled familiar voice came through the elevator doors.

          “McGee?”  Tony asked.

          “Try again DiNozzo,” this time the fog lifted enough for him to recognize who it really was.

          “Boss!  We have to hurry!  Ziva isn’t doing too good,” he said.  He was suddenly greeted by the bright lights the fire company had set up.  They’d used their combined strength and an ax to wedge the doors open.  The elevator was half-way between floors and now the trick was to lift them out.

          “All right, how bad is she?”  One of the fire fighters asked.

          “Broken arm, cuts, lacerations, and a gaping wound in her side which she neglected to tell me about.  She in and out of consciousness,” Tony explained.

          “All right, we’ll get her out of there.  Just hang on,” he promised as he came through the opening and squeezed into the elevator.  The elevator tried to move again and everyone froze.

          “We don’t have a lot of time.  She goes up first,” the firefighter said.  Tony squeezed out of the way and the man carefully lifted Ziva up through the opening and the other firefighters grabbed her.

          “Your turn,” he said.

          “You going to carry me like I’m some damsel in distress?”  Tony asked.

          “Come with me if you want to live,” the firefighter told him which made him chuckle and wince.  Quickly the firefighter got him up through the hole just before the elevator slipped again.

          “It’s not safe!”  Another firefighter shouted, making sure all the unessential personnel backed up.

          “There’s enough room for me to get out but you have to try to prop the elevator up so it will hold,” the rescue worker trapped in the elevator said.  Quickly his fellow firefighters and Gibbs grabbed a desk and wedged it into the hole.  Then the firefighter put his arms up and his buddies pulled him through.  None too soon as the elevator shifted again, crunching the desk and everyone moved back before it moved again.  This time the desk broke under the weight and the elevator slammed to the bottom of the shaft.

          Later, at the hospital, Ziva awoke to find her arm in a cast, bandages covering her mid-section, and Gibbs asleep in the chair next to her bed.  She had a lot of questions but she didn’t want to wake Gibbs.  He’d obviously been through Hell too with bandages and his arm in a sling.

          “What are you thinking Ziver?”  He asked, obviously having only taken one of those famous cat-naps.

          “How is everyone?  How bad is it?  Where is Tony?”  They all spilled out at once.

          “Our team is in one piece more or less.  We all got banged up pretty good but we’re all alive,” Gibbs smiled at her before continuing, “the damage to the Navy Yard is going to take some time to clean up but we’ll get there.  No definitive count on whom we lost and who was saved though.  As for DiNozzo, he’s in the next bed.”  Ziva breathed a sigh of relief.

          “He also kept saying something, ‘Screw Rule Number Twelve’, when they were prepping him for an x-ray.  I thought he was losing his mind, after all he was in a lot of pain, but you wouldn’t happen to know what he meant would you?”  Gibbs asked.  The look on Ziva’s face gave away what Tony had meant.

          “That’s what I thought.  Get some sleep Ziver.  We’re going to have to have a discussion when everybody is out of here,” he smirked and settled back down in his chair to get some more sleep.  Well the cat was out of the bag now.  It didn’t matter; Ziva knew that she and Tony could handle it.  No matter what, they’d make this thing between them work, even if it broke Rule Number Twelve, because all that mattered now was that it was out in the open and just like everything else, they’d handle it as a team.

**The End**  


End file.
